


We'll Never Be The Same

by EtherealNoir



Category: South Park
Genre: High School AU, M/M, crossdressing!Kyle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3552626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealNoir/pseuds/EtherealNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There's no going back to how it used to be. That's just how it is. The only thing you can do is look to the future and hope everything will turn out okay. You'll forget me when you try and figure out what the hell you want to become. Because I know that after all of this, you'll find what you really want. As for me? I'll just wallow in whatever's left of this mess. I can't erase you from my mind -- I'll never be the same."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. 'Wow, another high school AU so original.' But hear me out -- I want to write sappy teenage romance/drama and no one is going to stop me. Because I have great ideas for this. I have for a while. So yes, it's cliche, but who cares. 
> 
> ((Also it's just fanfiction who really gives a crap))
> 
> (((Well, I do. But that's beside the point)))

"Stan."

"Yeah?"

"I... Uh..."

"What's up, dude?"

"Willyougooutwithme!?"

I mentally slapped myself. That wasn't at all as graceful as I had intended it to be.

He was silent, staring at me with a look of poignant surprise. "Kyle, I..."

I felt my face grow uncomfortably hot.

"I'm flattered," he started. My heart fluttered. "But, I -- I don't swing that way dude."

"...Oh." I exhaled sharply, feeling all of my hopes leaving with the air I expelled.

"I had no idea you felt that way, Kyle." Stan said, his eyes wavering and brows knitted. "If I ever led you on, I'm sorry."

"No." I answered too quickly, "No, it's fine. I'm sorry. I guess I just assumed..."

"Look, Kyle, you're my best friend. But I just don't feel that way about you."

I fell silent, positive that soon enough I wouldn't be able to keep it together and I'd become a sobbing mess on top of this embarrassing admittance of my feelings.

Stan sighed wistfully. "Shit." He ran a hand through his dark hair. "How long have you felt this way?"

"I don't know." I gritted my teeth to stop myself from crying. "A long time. At least since middle school."

Stan looked at me quizzically, as if he was waiting for me to explain why I felt this way. Hell if I knew.

"This was stupid. I should go." I said, turning briskly on my heel. I wished I could simply curl up into a minuscule point in the universe -- unknown to anyone or anything. This was mortifying.

"Kyle, wait." He called after me. My stomach clenched as I stopped myself in a rather animated fashion, but didn't turn around in fear of a tear escaping down my burning cheeks.

"We can still be friends, okay? I mean, if that's fine with you."

"Yeah." I replied meekly. "Okay. I just need some time alone right now though."

"Alright, dude. I'll... I'll talk to you later then."

"Right."

I heard him walk off in the opposite direction towards his first class, taking the alternate route.

And with that, the first day of my senior year of high school had started to unravel at the seams, pulling apart the rest of my year with a messy rip. How I would stitch it back together was unknown to me then -- but I never could have imagined the outcome of the future.

 

~Earlier that morning~

 

"Hey guys!" I called to Stan, Kenny, and Cartman.

"Hey, Kyle." Stan and Kenny answered, while Cartman remained silent as he watched me approach.

"It feels like it's been forever since we've talked." I said as I stopped in front of them. All three of them were lounging around the huge oak tree in the main courtyard, where we've spent most of our school mornings.

"Only like, a few months." Kenny laughed.

"Yeah, true." I smiled. He had gotten rid of that stupid parka once we got into high school -- so now people could actually understand what he was saying. The outfit he wore the most now was an orange hoodie and jeans.

Stan remained almost the same, still sporting his hat from grade school. It was amazing that it still fit him. He had, however, since replaced his coat with a varsity jacket. Still the South Park Cows. This town didn't have much imagination when it came to mascots.

Our group didn't hang out as much as we used to when we were kids. We rarely talked outside school, since each of us seemed to be wrapped up in our own lives and problems. Despite the limited contact, we still remained fairly close. It seemed our group could withstand the test of time after all.

I think a majority of the reason we've all stuck together is Cartman. Any time he had some harebrained get-rich-quick scheme or some other plan to get what he wanted, he almost always came to us. Even throughout middle school and freshman year, Cartman hadn't seemed to have changed all that much since we were kids. He remained a spoiled, bigoted brat in those years.

But more recently, he's seemed to have mellowed out. His change in demeanor was more thank likely due to the time he spent in a mental ward during sophomore year after he had been caught trying to make some poor kid eat his own vomit for calling him fat. That, in addition to a plethora of many other juvenile acts, got his ass shipped to the mental institution in Denver.

He's been very quiet since he came back. I'm not sure what they did or said to him there -- but it seemed to have scared the shit out of him. Nobody rags on him anymore, really, since he hardly ever says anything himself. Often, though, he looks like he's struggling inside to try and bite back an insult or a stinging retort.

He'd also lost a fair amount of weight while he was away. Not enough to be called 'thin' -- not by a long shot -- but his baby fat had disappeared. His weight fit his body type more evenly now, leaving him shorter and stocky, but not in an unflattering way.

"So, you guys ready for another shitty year?" Stan asked no one in particular as he tapped away at his phone.

"At least it's our last year." I reasoned. "Once this is over, we can leave this shithole town and actually do something with ourselves."

"Eager to get out of here?" Kenny asked rhetorically, smiling.

"Who isn't?" Cartman spoke up finally. We all looked at him simultaneously, his words even breaking Stan's undivided attention from his phone. He was resting nonchalantly with his back up against the trunk of the tree, his arms crossed over his chest. "I, for one, am so sick of dealing with all these redneck douchebags."

"You can say that again." I said cynically. "This place is full of idiots."

Cartman looked at me for a long moment like he was going to say something, but then decided against it. Instead, he nervously licked his lips and directed his gaze towards the ground.

"Anyway," Stan said, "I don't even know what I'm going to do after high school. Do any of us?"

"Well, I want to travel." Kenny answered. "I can't afford to go to college anyway." He sighed.

Stan laughed. "Dude, we should all just do that."

I smiled. I loved hearing Stan's laugh -- it made me feel like laughing too.

Today was the day. I was going to tell him how I felt. I had been meticulously planning this moment for months now. I would confront him at his locker before class started, and ask the question. I felt a little sick to my stomach thinking about it, but I couldn't back out now. Not after I spent so long psyching myself up.

"Hey, Craig! Tweek!" Kenny called suddenly. "Over here!" He waved across the courtyard.

A tall, dark haired boy approached us, his small timid boyfriend in tow.

"Hey dudes." Kenny greeted them, his wide grin missing a few teeth.

"Yo." Craig replied, stoic as ever. He was wearing a blue jacket and a hat similar to what he wore when we were younger.

"Ah, hi Kenny." Tweek said shyly, shaking a little. He looked just as disheveled as ever.

They had been dating since middle school, and never really seemed to have many issues with their relationship. They also kept to themselves for the most part, so it was hard to tell if that was entirely accurate. But they complimented each other nicely regardless.

"'Sup?" Stan asked, his attention returned to his phone screen.

"Not much. Just ready to try and get through another year." Craig said flatly. "Right, Tweek?" He added.

The frail blonde startled at his name, jolting out of his own thoughts. He clung to Craig's arm. "R-right. I, uh, I just hope there's not too much, ah, p-pressure."

Craig put his free arm around the quaking form of Tweek to try and calm him, resting his forehead against the blonde's.

"It'll be fine." He whispered. "We'll get through one more year. We've made it through 11 of them."

"Y-yeah." Tweek said shakily. "That's uh -- t-true."

"...So." Kenny broke the moment.

Craig cleared his throat, returning to his neutral stance. There was a very faint blush on his cheeks.

The bell rang then, signaling that we had seven minutes to get to our first class.

"Shit, we gotta go." Craig said. "See you later." He waved as him and Tweek started to walk away.

"See ya." We all said synchronously as we watched them go.

"...Well, that was awkward." Cartman spoke, his stark expression unchanging.

"Hey," I said angrily, turning to him, "Tweek has a lot of anxiety issues. Lay off."

"It was a little uncomfortable watching that, though." He motioned with his head away towards the distant figures of Craig and Tweek.

"That's a really stupid thing to say. Can't you at least TRY and have a little empathy for once?"

"I can if I want to. Just not in this instance. I felt awkward."

"What, are you homophobic now, fatass?" As soon as that last word left my mouth I regretted it. Riling up Cartman over the one thing he was sensitive about was not a smart idea, especially since he came back from his time in Denver.

He looked at me in disbelief, his relaxed demeanor gone. Some secretive and flimsy part of his self-esteem had been fractured, the rest of his insecurities toppling down with it. "Are we regressing back to elementary school now, Kyle? Or should I say, 'stupid asshole Jew'?"

"No -- I," I felt embarrassment and anger rising in my face, "I didn't mean to --"

"Oh, real mature Kyle! You haven't changed at all, have you?" He left his leaning position and came to jab a finger in my chest. "At least I've made some god damn effort!"

"It was an accident! Besides, you were being really insensitive!" I snapped. "It's not like you've changed all that much either!"

Cartman was still and utterly silent, his face drawn up into a frozen look of disgust and loathing. A long time passed before his features slackened, and he took a step back from me. "Whatever." He scoffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets and kicking a rock at his feet. "I guess we're both still huge dicks then."

He walked away, kicking the same rock along as he went.

"Damn, dude." Stan said, gawking at me. "That was hardcore."

"Well, no matter how much I think he wants to believe that he's different -- he hasn't learned a thing." I said simply, crossing my arms. "I don't think he'll ever grow up. He's just a spoiled brat -- and I've dealt with his shit too long to put up with it anymore."

"I don't know, Kyle." Kenny chimed in, "I think he really has been making an effort."

"Could have fooled me." I growled.

"Kenny's right." Stan interjected, "Even if, deep down, Cartman is still a contemptuous asshole -- he's been better at hiding it." He paused. "You can't just expect him to be a new person overnight."

"I know," I sighed, "But I feel like if he hasn't made any progress at this point in his life, he never will."

"I don't know, dude. I guess we'll just have to see if he'll finally learn something this year."

"I suppose." I said, unconvinced.

"Hey, we better get to class." Stan changed the subject. Kenny groaned dramatically.

"Stan, we're going the same way to first hour right?" I asked, feeling my stomach flip. I had almost forgotten about my plan.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Cool, I'll walk with you then."

This was it. I was going to ask him.

"Okay. Bye, Kenny." Stan nodded to the blonde.

"Bye, dude." I smiled.

"See you two at lunch." Kenny replied as Stan and I made our way towards the school.

 

And that was the beginning of the end.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rewrite this chapter so many times. Finally I just said to myself 'screw it' and posted it, even though I'm not 100% happy with how it turned out. Oh well. I'll just work with what I have.  
> Anyway, enough of my rambling.

I had no intention of talking to Cartman if I didn't have to. There had always been a strong discord between us, and being together in the same vicinity almost never produced a good outcome. We were catalysts to each others' anger.

But since the days of my confession to Stan, our relationship had become a bit rocky. Neither of us wanted to give up the friendship, but we felt like strangers to one another. It was as if my admittance had peeled away some invisible layer of my existence, revealing below something volatile and fragile that Stan was afraid to touch. It even scared me.

My thoughts were confirmed only a few days later.

"Hey." Stan greeted as I sat next to him at the dirty, white laminate lunch table.

"Hey." I sighed, dropping my body heavily on the bench beside him.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

"Nothing, I guess." I mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Okay then."

There was a long silence as we both ate our lunches. I took small bites and chewed for a long time, not at all hungry. This whole ordeal had been upsetting, to say the least. I just wanted to move past it -- but it seemed the air of awkwardness persisted anyway.

"So..." Stan and I said at the same time. I blushed, looking down at my tray.

Stan cleared his throat. "So," He said, slightly more forcefully, "Do you want to do something after school today?"

I felt a blossoming pang in my chest at the offer.

"I'd love to, but I have a lot of homework. Plus I have to watch Ike tonight." I lied. It wasn't that I didn't want to spend time with Stan. I was dying to. But the thought of being alone with him made me feel like I was going to vomit. I wasn't ready to go back to how things used to be. How could I? Now that I had told him, I couldn't erase the marks I had gouged into our friendship. Only time could erode away my mistakes -- and I had no idea how long that would be.

"I see." Stan said, sounding surprisingly disappointed. "Maybe some other time then."

"Yeah."

Again, we both sat in silence, picking at our food. I couldn't shake the feeling of melancholy growing heavily inside me, like I had swallowed a marble or two. I felt tired and confused. I knew things would never be the same either way, but I had hoped it would be for the better. Not this -- whatever this was.

A few more days passed, and we talked less and less. Stan started to hang around Wendy more, and for some reason that made me feel worse. What was wrong with me? Was I not deserving enough of his company?

If I had just been born a girl…

'No.' I scolded myself sharply. 'Don't think like that. You're only saying that because you got your heart broken by that dumbass. Don't feel like you should have to change for him -- or anyone.'

However, I still thought it.

I sometimes played around with the idea of becoming a girl, but within me I knew that that was stupid. And when I pictured myself, it didn't seem right.

Regardless, I sometimes stole my mom's makeup or looked around the girls' section at the clothing store -- I even tried things on. I kept telling myself, 'Just give in to whatever you're feeling. This will go away soon.'

But it never went away.

 

~xXx~

 

Weeks went by, and Stan and I hardly glanced at each other, let alone talked. An icy ravine had fractured the earth between us, separating the loved from the loveless. But I no longer wanted to be with him. I didn't want to be with anybody.

I sat alone at lunch, letting my thoughts congest and writhe inside me like an infected wound. I was a brooding mess.

That is, until Eric Cartman set down his lunch tray beside me. I looked up from my food in surprise at the sudden presence of another person, letting my gaze flow upward to the face of the last person I wanted to see. He stood there, refusing to break eye contact. I hated to admit it, but his statuesque expression and posture was a little intimidating.

"What do you want?" I barked, my voice cracking from its under-use.

"Nothing." He answered, his face distant and emotionless as he sat next to me.

I looked back down at my tray, trying to bite back all the terrible words I wanted to unleash upon him. I wasn't angry at him -- but he happened to be the closest human being near me and I was a ticking time bomb.

"Look," I said, still gazing downward, "I don't want to start any drama today. I'm not in the mood or the condition to argue. So if you're going to say anything retarded or juvenile then please just fucking leave."

"Fine." He said flatly, picking up his sandwich and taking a bite. I looked over at him curiously. What the hell was he up to?

"'Fine'? Just, 'fine'? No smartass remark?" I thought aloud, genuinely confounded at such a simple response from him.

"Yeah. Is that an issue?"

"No, I'm -- I'm glad."

"Okay."

It was alien for Cartman to act so unemotional. He was normally rife with either anger, greed, spite, or some combination of the three. It made me feel uneasy.

"Why did you sit by me, anyway?" I questioned, dumbfounded as to why he would be anywhere closer than ten feet to me.

"I heard about you and Stan." He replied, setting his sandwich down and looking at me.

"So?" I said quizzically.

"So," He blinked a few times, then started picking at his fingernails. "So, I figured you needed a replacement friend."

I felt the blood rise up into my face. Replacement friend? What did he think I was, a charity case?

"Thanks but no thanks," I said, letting the irritation radiate off my words. "Stan and I are still friends. I don't need your pity."

"Then why have you been sitting alone for two weeks?"

"I--" I was about to rebuttal, but I realized I had no way to defend myself. It was true, and I knew it. I didn't have friends anymore -- I had pushed them all away with my little temper tantrum. 

"I…" I felt my anger subside. "Can't believe you're right for once, Cartman." He smirked, his brown eyes finally conveying some semblance of vitality. "But," I continued, "Why are you trying to be so nice to me?"

"People change, Kyle." His smile fell. "I just want you to give me a chance, okay?"

"And what if I don't fully believe you're being truthful?"

"Well, that's your loss then. I don't care if you have to sit alone."

I contemplated his offer. Never before would I have considered a friendship with Cartman -- but it was starting to look like my only reality. If I continued on by myself, who knew what would happen to the state of my mental health?

"Alright." I said. "I'll give you a chance. But if you screw up -- we're done. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah." He replied. "I'll be on my best behavior." That was the snarky Cartman I knew. But interestingly, his sarcasm didn't bother me. In fact, it made me smile. Maybe his personality was a much needed break from what I had been used to.

"So, friends?" I asked cautiously.

"Friends."

 

~xXx~

 

The pact I had made with Cartman left me wondering why the hell I had done it.

The next several days, we didn't grow any closer. But we also didn't grow apart. It was an inverse yet stable kind of friendship, and it felt foreign to me. Cartman made no attempt to try and seal the gap between us, and I didn't have the energy or the motivation to try it myself. I just didn't want to be alone. So when Cartman said something substantial to me at lunch, it took me by surprise.

"Hey Kyle," He spoke up from a long period of silence, "Do you want to come over to my house tonight?" He wouldn't look at me.

I sensed my face scrunch up into a look of confusion and awe. Eric Cartman inviting me to his house? That hadn't happened since elementary school. Why was he being so kind to me suddenly? It was a little pathetic, but his hospitality made me suspicious. Knowing him for twelve years tended to yield that effect.

"Uh, sure." I said, not certain how else to reply.

"Cool."

 

~xXx~

 

Cartman's room had stayed eerily similar to how it looked when we were kids, minus all the mess and clutter. Clyde Frog was propped up against his pillow.

"Wow. It's almost exactly like I remember." I said stupidly.

"Yeah, I don't like to get rid of stuff."

"But it's a lot cleaner."

Cartman let out a weak laugh and opened his closet, where a myriad of his possessions were precariously stuffed. It looked like it would all topple over if you breathed on it. "There's even more shit under the bed." He informed, only half kidding around.

"So, you're a hoarder now?" I jeered.

"I prefer to call it, 'collecting.'" He said in a comical matter-of-fact way. "Besides, you can't tell me you've just thrown away everything from your childhood."

"Well, no," I started, "But I do get rid of things I don't need anymore. It's called growing up." I hadn't meant that to sound mean, but I was afraid it had come out that way.

I was determined to keep this bridge that was forming between Cartman and I, not burn it to the ground with my clumsy word choice. I didn't want to be on bad terms with people -- and now was my chance to fix this. I needed to get used to the fact that we weren't little anymore, and should be able to carry an adult conversation without spiraling into a fight.

He laughed lightly. I felt relief.

"I guess I'm still just a kid then." He sighed and closed the closet, staring at the ground for a long moment. When he finally looked back up at me, I realized I had been staring.

"What are you looking at?" He said, irritated. "Don't think we're all hunky-dory just because I invited you over. This doesn't mean anything, okay?"

"Sorry," I apologized swiftly, taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. I paused. "But don't you think that maybe, we could be on better terms? I mean, it's about time we get over our indifferences and move on."

"I don't think that's possible, Kyle. Ever."

"Why not?"

"Because," He growled, "We're not compatible, you and I. Offering you my company was a retarded idea and I'm seriously regretting it. You know why?"

"W-why?" I stuttered, my eyes wide and full of concern.

"You're my weakness, Kyle. You always have been. And it pisses me off just thinking about how much you're able to influence me. I'm weak and pathetic and I don't enjoy anything anymore!" He looked like he was close to tears as he choked out his words. "I'm turning into someone I don't like -- and you're not helping."

I didn't know how to respond.

"Then," I said, carefully enunciating each sound of the word, as if a mispronounced syllable would further injure this vulnerable side of Cartman, "Why did you want to hang out with me in the first place?"

He flushed red and turned violently in my direction. I flinched.

"Because, you dumb asshole! Neither of us have friends! Now that Stan's out of the way -- maybe I can change that."

"I thought you hated me?" I asked tentatively.

He sighed and heavily dropped his body down onto his bed. "I thought I did too."

I felt words forming on my lips, but none of them seemed like the right ones. Instead, I cautiously sat down next to him.

We both looked off into the distance, absorbing the quiet and the feeling of another person so near. The ticking of the clock added to the soft, mindless, and comforting drone.

I didn't know what had happened to Cartman. I didn't know what was going to happen. He had suddenly transformed into someone that I didn't know how to handle. Insults, curses, general ignorance -- that I could deal with. But this... I had no clue. And I don't think he had any idea either.

"I'm sorry." Was all I could force out of my mouth. I hoped that within those words he would sense all the other things I couldn't say.

All he did was smile weakly and look away from me.

"Kyle."

"What?"

"Do you..." He breathed deeply and stopped. "Never mind."

"What? What were you going to say?" I pried.

A red tint had dusted his cheeks again. After a momentary look of contemplation, he spoke, "Kyle, uh," he turned to me.

Before I could process the action, he leaned over and gingerly placed his lips on mine. It was like a barrier had been irreplaceably shattered, the fragments burying themselves in my heart and in my head. It was over in a second. I sat in shock, my face more than likely pale and eyes wide.

Cartman looked away from me. "Get out." He whispered hoarsely.

"W-What?" I shook my head. "But-- "

"Get. Out." He said through clenched teeth.

"Cartman, please, can't we just talk about this?"

"No!" He yelled, startling me slightly. "Just leave. Just fucking leave. I know that you want to. You're disgusted and horrified and frankly, I would be too."

I had to process my thoughts faster than I was thinking then. I had to outgun myself and say, "But I'm not."

He inhaled like he was going to say something, but halted mid-breath. "What?"

"I'm not horrified or disgusted or anything." I said curtly, "But I had no idea..."

Oh God, was this how Stan felt?

"You don't have to be nice, Kyle."

"I mean it. I'm just... surprised."

Cartman was quiet, staring down at the floor and biting his lip. Then, he abruptly looked over to me, a wild look of excitement glazing his eyes. "You're going to be my boyfriend, okay?"

"Woah woah woah what?"

"You heard me."

"Cartman, that's -- that's not how it works."

"Well then I can be your boyfriend! I'm not picky."

"I have to agree to this, firstly." I was trying hard to bite back sheepish laughter at his haphazard proposal.

"Oh." He acknowledged flatly. "So do you want to or not? Better decide before I change my mind." I could see that he was ever-so-slightly trembling.

I had to take a moment to contemplate what was being offered to me. All those years of fighting and disagreements... did they even matter anymore? Our relationship was one built on distrust and second-guessing the other, so in reality I knew him better than I knew anyone else. But did I really like him?

My thoughts were flashing 'no,' but deep down in some archaic part of my human intuition I knew that that wasn't the right answer. I knew what I wanted to say and I knew what I needed to say -- it was only a matter of determining whether I could pretend the other didn't exist.

To hell with it.

"I will." I answered gingerly, my heart racing. "But not right at the moment. We should do more things together and see if it's a good idea or not."

Shouldn't I be thinking about this first? In truth, I didn't know how I felt. Maybe this was just some rebound reaction from my disaster with Stan -- but dammit, I was excited. A murderer could have asked me out and I would have considered it.

"Wait -- really?" Cartman said, true surprise covering his face.

"Yeah," I answered, feeling empowered by his reaction, "Why not? It could be fun."

"You are such an asshole." He said, smiling a little.

"I speak from the heart." I teased further.

We stared awkwardly at each other after that, unsure what else to say or do.

"Well, I... I better get home." I spoke up, my bravery diminished. I felt biting embarrassment at the thought of what just happened. I was a dangerous train wreck.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow I guess." Cartman replied while looking out his window.

I left without saying goodbye.

However, contented sediment had somehow settled in the pit of my stomach, fertilizing an unknown blossom that filled up the hollow cavities in my chest. It was a bit gnarled and broken -- but I had something.

Who needed Stan anyway?


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is really different from the rest of the story so far. I'm going to be switching between a few characters, however Kyle is the only character who is in first person -- just so there's no confusion. 
> 
> Also -- warning ahead for those who are sensitive. I don't want to say what it is, but if you know you get easily upset then you might not want to read this. 
> 
> On another note, I'm going to Florida next week so I won't be able to update for a while (I don't really know if it matters but hey at least I informed anyone who cares). So, yeah. That's happening.

They sat alone at the park; swaying forlornly on wooden, rusty swings. The flat, grey sky crackled heavily with the creeping sensation that something just wasn't right about today, or any day. Around them, the fall air was saturated with the scent of decaying leaves and the cold wind, filling their minds with fuzzy grey static and saccharine melancholy. 

In that haze -- it was unspoken -- yet they knew what the other meant to convey. Between them was a preemptive guess as to who would speak first. That's how it always went, no matter the subject.

"I'm sorry, Craig." Tweek blurted. His eyes faltered while trying to find some reassurance that his apology was heard, even though he knew it had been. He was gripping the bottom of his mis-buttoned shirt in clenched fists, wringing it nervously. 

"Tweek." Craig said firmly, "Don't apologize. It wasn't your fault."

"B-but it was!" The blonde cried, standing up from the swing. 

Craig's expression remained unreadable in the moments of silence before he said, "Please explain how that was your fault in any way, shape, or form." 

Tweek's shoulders slowly lowered. He blinked a few times. "I..."  
He took a deep breath.  
"I don't know how, but it was." 

Craig stood up, a couple inches taller than the blonde. He tenderly grabbed Tweek's hand and held it in his own. 

"Listen to me. That was not your doing. There was no force in the world that could have told you that would have happened. It was out of your control." 

He hugged Tweek tightly and continued,

"And if I ever find who did that to you, I swear to God I will fucking rip their face off." 

Tweek laughed weakly, brushing a stray lock of flaxen hair behind his ear.  
"Thanks." 

"I'm," Craig said, "I'm sorry I brought it up. I hadn't meant to." 

"It's okay. It's b-been two years. I should be able to talk about what happened at th-this point." 

"You're sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." 

 

~xXx~

 

A distinct cold had settled in the bones of South Park. It was the kind of cold that made thick frost form on the windows and dewey grass freeze immaculately in time. It was a cold that came too early.

Craig trekked through the harsh, biting wind; determined to reach his destination. He looked up, shielding his eyes from the stinging cold. It was close now -- Tweek Bros. Coffee House. 

Tweek's parents owned the place, and he worked there part-time. It was a little annoying having to walk across town to see his boyfriend on the weekends, but for the most part Craig didn't care. 

He reached the doors and opened them emphatically, relieved to be out of the cold. The little bell rang loudly, signaling his entrance. 

"Craig!" Tweek exclaimed happily, looking up at him from a table he was bussing. He was wearing his work clothes; an ugly tan button-up polo, black pants, and faded black Sketchers that he had owned since eight grade. A wide grin had settled on his face, melting his features into a seldom-seen glitter which dazzled any recipient. That, in addition to his loveably wild hair and shorter stature, made it so that Craig couldn't help but crack a smile too. 

"Hey." Craig replied, waving curtly. 

"You're here early." Tweek observed.

"Yeah, I was bored at home. Figured I'd come visit for a bit." 

"I'm glad you did," the blonde made a pouting face, "It's been dead all day."

"Everyone's at the football game today. Cows vs. the Denver East Angels." 

"Football is so stupid." Tweek shook his head, "I don't understand it."

"To each their own, I guess." Craig shrugged. "Speaking of that, everyone's saying Stan is going to totally bomb the game." 

"How come?"

"I heard that Kyle asked him out and Stan turned him down. But damn, that's gotta suck. They haven't talked in almost a month now. Stan's been acting a little weird, they said."

"Wait, Kyle? Kyle Broflovski?" Tweek inquired, his eyes wide. "I never imagined he would be gay. He always struck me as more of the jock type." 

"Appearances can be deceiving." Craig surmised. 

"Yeah." Tweek concurred, glancing away at the clock. "Hey, it's almost six o' clock. I'll be done soon." 

"Cool. Want to go get something to eat?" Craig offered.

"Sure. I just have to clean up a few things and I'll be ready to go." 

"I'll be here."

Tweek walked back into the kitchen, lifting his forest-green apron over his head in the process. As the door swung shut, Craig sat on a red cushioned swivel stool at a round table. He sighed and took out his phone, deciding to play a game and kill some time.

When a while had passed, Craig started to worry. He looked up at the clock to reassure himself that he wasn't nervous over nothing, and the hands proudly displayed the time to be twenty past six. 

Craig stood up, the stool screeched and echoed across the linoleum floor. 

"Tweek?" He called. No reply. 

"Tweek?" He called again, this time more loudly. Still no answer. 

He rushed back into the kitchen, worry starting to drench his quickened heartbeat. "Tweek!" He yelled. 

He stopped in his tracks, hearing sobbing coming from the employee bathroom. 

He slowly pushed the door ajar, peering inside. "Tweek, are you okay?"

The blonde was sitting against the white and blue tiled wall opposite the sinks, his legs drawn up tight to his body and his head resting on his knees. He was shaking as soft sobs ran through his shoulders. 

Craig looked at him in silence, contemplating his next move. He decided to sit down next to the frail figure, and just let his presence be known. 

After a length of time, Tweek finally looked up. His eyes were red and slick with tears. He sniffled miserably. 

"What's the matter?" Craig asked, his voice low and careful. 

"I can't do it." Tweek said, distraught, "It's so stupid -- but I can't." 

Craig put his arms around the blonde and kissed the top of his head. "Tell me." 

"I... I can't go back out into that alley!" Tweek exclaimed, squeezing his eyes shut as his nails dug into the palms of his hands. 

"That's understandable." Craig whispered softly, "No one expects you to." 

"But I can't even do something as s-simple as taking out the garbage! I j-just get so afraid! Even thinking of being there makes me feel like I'm going to p-pass out!" Tweek had curled himself up into a ball again, shaking. 

"You don't have to go out there." Craig said, "I can do it for you." 

Tweek was looking up in an instant, his eyes hard and shiny, like a beetle flipped on its back. 

"That's not the point!" He shouted, exasperated, "I can't move on from what happened! It's always going to play over and over in my mind until I go insane!" 

Craig was statuesque. His lips felt like they had been sewn together, and like tar had been forced down his throat. His aloof facade was of no use here. When one wall falls, so do the others around it. 

"Tweek. Calm down." He held the blonde again, gently rubbing his back. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Tweek shook his head vigorously. 

"Are you sure?"

He sighed, and looked deeply into Craig's eyes. Tweek's face looked as though he had tried to lock away all of his fear, but it was still translucent. Craig could see what lied beneath the halcyon mask. He always could. 

"You -- you know what happened." Tweek choked out. 

"If you don't want to talk about it that's completely fine. I just thought... I mean... it's been two years." Craig fumbled, embarrassed at his lack of knowledge of how to deal with this kind of situation. 

"I know," Tweek replied, looking into the distance, "It's time that I sh- should be able to tell someone more of what w-went on." 

The small blonde took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He looked like he was trying to force down some instinct to scream, to cry, to do anything erratic. But he remained calm. 

"It was a Thursday. I was at work, and it was closing time." He started. "Everyone was gone, and my parents had trusted me to lock up the shop. So I put everything away, wiped down the counters, the usual stuff." 

Tweek stopped, and Craig gave him a reassuring smile -- something rare and genuine. 

He continued, a tinge of reluctance hanging on his words, "The only thing that was left to do was clean up the back room. I had done it a hundred times before -- I wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary. It was pretty cluttered, and I had a huge trash bag filled with all of the garbage. I... I went to go take it out to the back alley where the dumpsters are." 

Tweek's throat moved with the action of him swallowing, his eyes dull yet dimly hyperactive. This was the most calm Craig had ever seen him. 

"But, there was this guy. He was a regular -- he came in all the time. He would always smile at me and leave a huge tip. He told me stories about his life; about his kids, his job, his wife. Nothing unusual. He seemed like a really nice, honest man." 

Tweek paused again, licking his slightly chapped lips. 

"It was about nine thirty pm, I remember, it was so strange. He was out in the back alley, standing in a shadow. I could barely tell he was there. I called out, but he didn't answer. I recall feeling this chill wash over me entirely, like jumping into a dark lake at night. I wanted to run or... or something... but I couldn't do anything but watch him approach me. I remember, so vividly, his form stepping into the fluorescent light above the door."

Tweek pressed his body closer to Craig's.

"There was something about him -- something that had changed. I looked into his eyes and there was this liquid emotion I can't describe. It was like watching a black and white movie, but everyone's moving too fast; that feeling of everything being out of place." 

The blonde took a long breath.

"He said to me, 'Hey Tweek. I was waiting for you.' 

I think I tried to reply, but I couldn't even do that. I was so afraid."

A single tear escaped down his cheek, but his expression remained stony. 

"He grabbed my wrists and twisted them behind my back. I dropped the garbage bag and it split open on the concrete. It was so stupid, but I remember for a second worrying about how my parents would be mad at me for making a mess.

But that fear was gone almost instantly. It was replaced with a different fear -- and I was fearing for my life. I struggled, but the man was twice my size, there was no way I would've been able to break free. 

Then everything was really still. He switched his grip, holding both of my wrists with one hand. With the other hand, he took out a knife.

I was going to scream, but he suddenly let go of my wrists, put his hand over my mouth, and pressed the knife to my throat. 

I had no way to escape. The alley was fenced in and the door had locked behind me -- it would have taken too long to unlock it. I was hopelessly trapped. 

He whispered in my ear with this viciously sweet tone, 'I love you, Tweek.'

And then... and then he made me take off all my clothes. He stood there with his knife pointed at me, and I was shivering from the cold and from fear. He looked at me for a long time, and then he said, 'You're so beautiful -- just like I imagined.' He put his arms around my waist in this weird kind of, hug almost. 'I've been so lonely.' He whispered, looking like he wanted to cry. 'You've been all I can think about.'

I didn't say anything. Even if I had wanted to, I don't think I could've. I didn't feel any pity, but I felt a twinge of something... something raw and completely human, but yet I have no idea what it was.

In an abrupt change of emotion, though, he forced me to the ground. All I could do was plead, 'no, no, please don't do this, no, I don't want to, please,' over and over. His face didn't change. He didn't even look me in the eyes -- not once. I don't know why I expected him to acknowledge me. I think that I was praying that somewhere deep within him he still had a sliver of conscience. But of course, that kind of thing is lost on someone so consumed by a singular thought. It's like a tumor. 

I cried and begged, but nothing could've stopped him at that point. He was too far gone. He had his way with me. I felt broken in that time, utterly shattered. He peppered my body with desperate kisses, but I couldn't feel anything. It was like my brain had been severed from the rest of me. I don't really remember much after that point. 

But I do remember waking up. I was alone in the alley, the man long gone. I didn't recall passing out.

I pieced together what had happened in my head almost instantly, surprisingly. I didn't cry. I didn't even feel any emotion. I just stood up, all shaky. There was a pool of dried blood and semen underneath where I had been laying. I think I might've laughed. Not the kind of laugh that you make when something's funny, obviously -- it was a scared and disbelieving laugh. I couldn't convey what I was feeling any other way in that moment. I just descended into hysterical, fractured laughter. 

It was still night. My clothes still sat where I had lain them. I put them back on slowly and carefully, like they were made of paper. My key to the back door was gone. 

I stood with my forehead up against the brick wall for a while, I don't know how long. My parents showed up with the police, they had been worried and looking for me everywhere. The police saw the scene and immediately knew what happened. 

They found the man. It was simple enough. The jury found him guilty, but he only got ten years."

Ten years. Drug dealers have longer sentences." 

Tweek started to cry again. 

"I'm sorry." He apologized weakly, harshly wiping away his tears with his sleeve. 

Craig sat in silence for a long time. 

In school they taught you how to say 'please and thank you.' They taught you how to share and how to compromise and how to be kind to others. But never once did they teach you what to say or what to do in this scenario. Maybe that's because, no one really knows. It's a thing most people don't expect to deal with, this kind of pain. But it can happen to anyone, at practically any time. We like to think that as people, we're better than that. That the world isn't as bad as the news says it is. But most people think they're invincible -- until something comes along and breaks that gold armor. We don't want to fear the worst. 

Craig decided to be honest, "Tweek, I have no idea what to say. I'm, I'm glad you shared this with me... that you were able to trust me this much."

Tweek smiled thinly, "You're the only one I've ever told the whole story to." 

Craig squeezed Tweek firmly but lovingly, hoping to reassure him it'd be all right in some way. He knew words would fail entirely. 

After a long time, Craig asked quietly, "Do you want to come to my house and watch a movie? I'll make us pancakes. We can snuggle up on the couch."

"I- I would like that." Tweek replied, his face ever so slightly lighting up. 

"C'mon then," Craig stood up, helping Tweek stand as well, "Let's just forget about this place for a while. If your parents have an issue, I'll personally give them the signature one finger salute." 

Tweek let out a short burst of laughter.  
"I love you."


End file.
